


Sir, Put the Microphone Down

by TheSocialExperiment



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Blood, Gen, Killing, Revolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3411101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSocialExperiment/pseuds/TheSocialExperiment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I figured it was about damn time I wrote a Kevin story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sir, Put the Microphone Down

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to madorah, the love of my life. And yes, I named the StrexPet after her.

" Good afternoon Desert Bluffs! This is Kevin speaking, welcoming you into another beautiful day!" 

Internally, I was groaning. Another cheerful broadcast about this 'productive' little town. How it sickens me. 

'Today, we have have a wonderfully productive day, I can just feel it! Won't that just be wonderful, Desert Bluffs? So much work will be done and it's wonderful."

Lauren gave me a thumbs up from outside the recording studio. She sickens me too. 

So I continued to drone on about the news in a pleasant yet efficient tone. My voice was my job security, after all. I pushed my hair back and leaned back in my chair as the weather played. 

"Vanessa, where's that coffee I asked for 15 minutes ago? Yeah, thanks doll." 

She scurried off to get my coffee. How useless, that lot. Interns are...wonderful for their value as studio decorations, but certainly not as interns. 

Intern Vanessa scuttled past the studio and slid my coffee through a little window. My studio was sacred. No one leaves my studio but me. I am very...particular about the organization. 

I finished up the show in a hurry. I had more important things to do. 

After a rushed exit and long ride home through rush hour traffic, I pulled into my apartment. As the radio show host, I was given a penthouse suite as a perk. The little yellow company car was another perk. 

My StrexPet, Smith, squealed as I walked in my apartment. My keys clattered across the counter. With a huff, I sat down on the 'modern' white couch. It was as comfortable as a brick. The company-provided bed wasn't much better. 

This was getting ridiculous. Days on loop of false broadcasts and pep for a job he hated and enthusiasm for a town he couldn't leave. 

I ran my hands along the Strex-issued Control Chip implanted just behind my ear. Mine was a prototype implantation and left a jagged scar. 

I whistled for Smith. He hummed over happily, eager for attention. Smith was really just a way of monitoring me. I snorted in contempt. They thought I didn't know. 

Smith purred on my lap as I patted him. I smiled. It was go time. 

With a quick flip, I turned Smith over, reached into a structural weakness found by the neck, and ripped him into two. The microphone implanted in his head broke off and fell with a loud thud. 

I pulled a small knife out of my pocket and cut the prototype chip out. I grinned, wide and bloody. 

A click sounded behind me as I exited my apartment. A mechanical hum began. 

The bomb went off just as I was exiting. What awful timing. Useless, Strex, useless. My car still sat, shiny and unmenacing, in the driveway. 

I walked past it into the streets. There, I began to yell. 

"Good evening Desert Bluffs. If you can hear me, that means you have the privilege of hearing a very special broadcast. Leave your homes, Desert Bluffs, leave your homes and follow me."

I stopped here. Mustering all my power into one shout I yelled, "LEAVE YOUR HOMES AND FOLLOW ME IN A REVOLT AGAINST STREX CORPORATION." 

People were meandering out of their houses, blinking in confusion against all the yelling. When they saw their friendly radio show host yelling about revolution, they were scared. Scared and confused. 

I tsked. What useless people. A sacrifice or two would need to be made. So I lasted out at the nearest person. It happened to be a mother and her teenage boy. I ripped the son's throat out with the teeth, and the wailing mother who rushed at me? Well, the human skull can't withstand me for long. 

I arose, covered in the blood of the innocent, and smiled, wide and bloody. 

"People of Desert Bluffs...I gave my command. Now. Follow. Me."


End file.
